 | Western windows and other poems |  |
134
RESURRECTION.
No season, O friend, may seem
Dearer than that through which I seem'd to go
When the blind Fever, piloting my dream,
Drifted me to and fro.
Dearer than that through which I seem'd to go
When the blind Fever, piloting my dream,
Drifted me to and fro.
I thought that you were lost:
That Light in the dark, or Shadow in the sun,
Had taken you; and helpless I was toss'd—
Comfortless and undone!
That Light in the dark, or Shadow in the sun,
Had taken you; and helpless I was toss'd—
Comfortless and undone!
Through all familiar air
That you had breathed I wander'd, but I found
Only your absence in my own despair—
O never-healing wound!
That you had breathed I wander'd, but I found
Only your absence in my own despair—
O never-healing wound!
I could not find you, and
I knew I could not; in a grave you lay
Which I had seen not—over dust and sand
Blown in a wind's lost way!
I knew I could not; in a grave you lay
Which I had seen not—over dust and sand
Blown in a wind's lost way!
135
At last you came: behold,
I saw you—from among the dead, I deem'd:
Not free from Death, but bearing as of old
Your living child, you seem'd.
I saw you—from among the dead, I deem'd:
Not free from Death, but bearing as of old
Your living child, you seem'd.
White with the following light
Of some new world, whose darkness we but know
Who blindly look, you claim'd your dearest right,
The mother's place, below.
Of some new world, whose darkness we but know
Who blindly look, you claim'd your dearest right,
The mother's place, below.
A mother's tender heart,
That would not rest, had brought you to your own.
They told me soon again you must depart
And leave your world alone.
That would not rest, had brought you to your own.
They told me soon again you must depart
And leave your world alone.
But still you stay'd and still
You would not go, and Life again at last
Renew'd the warm persuasion of its will,
Breathing, and held you fast.
You would not go, and Life again at last
Renew'd the warm persuasion of its will,
Breathing, and held you fast.
And so my dream was gone.
Lo, I had wander'd almost to that brink
Where the great Darkness standing in the Dawn
Makes the night-traveler shrink.
Lo, I had wander'd almost to that brink
Where the great Darkness standing in the Dawn
Makes the night-traveler shrink.
136
'T was I had pass'd away,
And my return that brought you back to me;
I, blind in the mist—you, vanish'd in the day,
Return'd when I could see.
And my return that brought you back to me;
I, blind in the mist—you, vanish'd in the day,
Return'd when I could see.
And, still unwearying, lo!
Though worn and weary, you had trembled near,
O tender watcher, fearing I should go,
And hoping out your fear!
Though worn and weary, you had trembled near,
O tender watcher, fearing I should go,
And hoping out your fear!
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